


Mental Faculties are Twice as Fun (ABANDONED)

by VincentMeoblinn



Series: Finish Me [18]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, The Big Bang Theory (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Coming Untouched, Dubious Consent, M/M, Masturbation, Mind Sex, Psychic Abilities, Tentacle Sex, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 21:12:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3148703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn/pseuds/VincentMeoblinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1)	Sherlock can’t get John to move back in without providing for all of his needs, but sex is simply not on. So he develops a formula that opens up the inactive portions of his brain so he can use his mind to satisfy his friend’s urges.<br/>2)	Leonard is planning on moving out so Sheldon perfects his use of the Force and utilizes it to tempt him to stay with him.<br/>This story is done twice (or will be). The first chapter is a pairing I’m more comfortable with, Sherlock/John, and the second is the same story redone with Sheldon/Leonard since they are more likely to fit the plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mental Faculties are Twice as Fun (ABANDONED)

John was sighing again. He did that a lot. Sighed and shifted and stared off into space miserably. Sherlock tried to be patient with him, but he was _awfully_ irritating. He understood that John was depressed and sleep deprived, but that didn’t mean he had to be a berk.

 “I realize you’re tired and divorced, but must you sit there and mope?” Sherlock sighed.

“I’m not depressed.”

“I said divorced, not depressed.”

“Maybe I am a bit depressed. I haven’t got time to date and I’m _lonely_ , but I’ve got no life now.”

Sherlock was the one to sigh this time. John had confessed his intense love of Sherlock shortly before Moriarty had been tossed into the slammer for attempting to steal the crown jewels. He’d been promptly rejected and had run off to marry the first woman who would have him. She’d turned out to be an assassin so he’d divorced her not long after, but they’d had a baby before she got herself killed. Now John was a divorcee, widow, and single father. He still visited Sherlock, but he rarely went on cases with him anymore. He spent all his time looking after his daughter. It had been a week since his wife’s death and it was painfully obvious that John couldn’t afford to live on his own anymore. He couldn’t afford both rent and childcare with only one job. Sherlock’s mission was clear.

“Move back in.”

“How will that help…?”

“You’ll be able to afford childcare so you won’t have to care for your daughter days and work nights while leaving her with the neighbour- who has an addiction to prescription pills by the way.”

“Sherlock, I appreciate that, but I can’t stay here. Not again.”

“Why not?” Sherlock whinged.

“Because I can’t stop wanting you, that’s why.”

“Oh, not _that_ again!” Sherlock groaned.

“You know, I looked up asexual in the dictionary and went to a support group for asexual people and their partners-”

“That’s a thing?”

“-Apparently- and nearly every one of them were sexually active.”

“I have no interest in sex, John. Either sexually or emotionally. I will _never_ have sex with you.”

“Yet you say you love me too,” John replied.

“I do,” Sherlock replied, “I’m as attached to you as I can possibly get without sutures being involved, but I am _repulsed_ by sex.”

“Okay, so there’s where it’s a problem. It’s _torture_ for me to live with you without an ounce of physical affection. If you’d just let me _date_ …”

“Don’t be foul. How is that remotely monogamous, by the way?”

“Right, so there’s the problem. If I live on my own I can at least date.”

“You haven’t the time for it.”

“Fair enough, but _someday_ …”

“By then she’ll be in school. You might as well move in and let me pay the full rent.”

“I don’t w… the _full_ rent?”

“You have enough expenses.”

“Okay, count me in.”

“Good.”

“But I’m going to date.”

“Over my dead body.”

“There aren’t enough rooms for a little girl _and_ us.”

“You’ll share my bed.”

“Platonically?!”

“Yes.”

“Damn it… fine.”

John lasted about a year before he was finally too stressed out by his proximity to his crush to be able to stand it. Sherlock woke up to John panting as he tossed off beside him, something he had tolerated more than once, but when he rose to get up to start his day John gripped his arm and refused to let go. He stared at Sherlock with such blatant longing on his face that the consulting detective thought he might start to weep. John tugged on his arm but Sherlock refused to come closer. John came with a strangled sob, releasing Sherlock’s hand to throw his arm over his face. He was taking slow, shaky breaths and Sherlock fled the room rather than witness his misery.

An hour later John emerged from the shower and started his day, scooping up his daughter from where she babbled in her cot. The little blonde haired girl sat in her highchair and threw food at Sherlock. He threw it back at her, and John would normally laugh and then tell Sherlock he had to clean it up (he never did), but today was different. Today he was silent. Today he made them breakfast and sat down to stare miserably at his food.

“Have you considered rentboys?” Sherlock asked, “I’m unopposed to rentboys, I just don’t want someone taking your atten-“

“I’m moving out.”

“Not this again,” Sherlock sighed, smearing some jam in Katherine’s hair.

“She’s one today. It’s her birthday.”

“Is there going to be a party?” Sherlock asked, narrowing his eyes accusingly, “You were trying to slip it by me, weren’t you?”

“There’s not going to be a party. Just Mrs. Hudson, Molly, and Lestrade coming over for tea. No one else can tolerate you.”

“That sounds like a party to me.”

“It’s not a party,” John sighed.

“It’s a _tea_ party, that’s the _worst_ sort of party.”

“Then don’t be there!” John snapped, “Ignore your goddaughter’s birthday completely!”

“I hadn’t realized that was an option,” Sherlock replied, perking up quite a bit, “In that case…”

“I’ve found a flat in Sussex.”

“What?”

“It’s an attic flat, but it’s rather nice.”

“No.”

“I can afford childcare now. It goes down once they hit a year old.”

“No.”

“My practice is opening an office there and they’re willing to make me head so long as I’m not associating with you anymore.”

“Not associating… how?”

“At all.”

“At… all…?”

“Yeah,” John sighed, “Look, I’m sorry. I know you tried to make it work like this, but I just can’t.”

“I let you _spoon_ me,” Sherlock snarled.

“Yeah, and it was great, but you know where it always led.”

“Yes, you _masturbating_.”

“Not in front of Katherine,” John scolded.

“You started this here. Finish it!”

“I love you, but I can’t do this anymore. It’s been nice having this… whatever we have… but it’s not enough for me. I want a _real_ relationship.”

“With sex,” Sherlock snarled, “I’m asexual. I thought you _respected_ that.”

“Asexual people have sex too.”

“I’m not going to just lie back and think of England!”

“I don’t want you to,” John replied miserably, “I want you to want me back, or at least participate some. I don’t need to p-e-n-e-t-r-a-t-e you, I just need you to smile at me and touch a bit.”

“No! It’s _disgusting!_ ”

“Maybe some therapy to…”

“I haven’t got a past trauma that makes me repulsed by sex! It’s just _repulsive!”_

John stood up with a sigh and finished the last of his coffee, “I leave in two months.”

“Like hell you do!” Sherlock roared.

“Hell!” Katherine shouted after John, “Doo doo!”

“That’s my goddaughter,” Sherlock smirked.

“God!” Katherine shouted, waving her spoon at Sherlock.

“You’d like me to feed you? Why certainly,” Sherlock smirked.

“Stop teaching Kathy to call you God!” John shouted from the bedroom.

“Well that won’t be a problem in _two months_ will it?!” Sherlock shouted back.

Then he froze as the horror of the situation hit him. John would be gone. For good. No more Katherine, no more quiet nights with take-out and telly, no more back-up on cases, and no more _praising_ him. Sherlock pulled Katherine out of her highchair and placed her in her bouncer, heading into the bedroom where John was tying his shoes, already dressed for work. His eyes were red but he was composed.

“I’ll try.”

“I’m not going to force you, Sherlock,” John sighed, “It’s over. I’m going to sleep on the couch for the next two months. Ease myself out of your life.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“No, it’s not, and you know it’s not.”

“Who will help me?”

“Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, and Molly. Oh, and Mycroft, not that you’ll be appreciative. Just like old times.”

“I didn’t _like_ old times!”

John sighed and walked past him miserably, pecking him on the cheek; “I’ve got to get Kathy to her school on time. I… I’ll try to make this transition easy on you.”

“Not possible!” Sherlock raged, following him into the sitting room, “What if I can manage it? If I bring you off once a week will you stay?”

John laughed bitterly and shook his head, “Have a good day, Sherlock.”

XXX

It had taken a month, but it was finally perfected. The serum had first been tested on rats and a dog. The rats had developed the ability to read and write and perform basic math equations. The dog had developed the ability to speak using a tile system Sherlock developed for him and then took another leap to sounding out a few simple words. He had a thick accent but was fairly understandable once one adjusted to it. After a week he had developed a sense of self and chosen a name. Toby. Sherlock found himself attached so he decided to throw Toby in as part of the “Stay with me John” scheme.

Finally he tested it on Molly and she spent a full day with a migraine, curled up on the floor of the lab sobbing miserably. He tried to be impartial about it, but she kept clinging to him miserably. John walked in on that last bit and tried to convince her to go to hospital, but Sherlock didn’t want his experiment to be compromised (i.e. John find out) so he threw him out and told him that he’d take care of Molly himself. John left in a huff but by that evening it had all resolved itself and Molly tentatively levitated a coin off of the table with a look of fascination on her face.

“Was it worth the pain?” Sherlock asked contemplatively.

“I’m not sure about personally but… Sherlock, this is an amazing scientific achievement!”

“Yes, I suppose, the question is can I use it to manipulate a _person_?”

The coin clattered to the table.

“Sherlock,” Molly squeaked, turning to face him, “Could you rephrase that in a way that _doesn’t_ make me feel I need to call The Avengers?”

“Muscles, Molly! _Muscles!_ ” Sherlock raved, “All orgasms are is a sudden clench and release of muscles!”

“They’re a bit more than that,” Molly replied, “They’re synapses firing, chemicals releasing… the whole ejaculation bit is just the obvious part. It’s possible to ejaculate without pleasure, you know.”

“Well… yes… but that achieves the results that-“

“No,” Molly insisted, “It doesn’t.”

“It doesn’t?” Sherlock looked deflated.

“Nope.”

“Then I’ve wasted a month!” Sherlock raged.

“Or,” Molly pointed out, “You could find a way to make this work _anyway_.”

“How so?”

“Well, instead of using it to marionette him into an orgasm, how about you use it to stimulate his skin?”

Sherlock perked up and snatched up the serum, “Here’s to saving my relationship with John.”

Molly forced on a smile, “Cheers.”

Sherlock downed the serum and spent the entire night sobbing on Molly’s couch while she held a warm, damp flannel over his eyes and petted his hair. By morning he was able to levitate three objects at once and by afternoon he could make Toby dance a jig by glancing at him.

“That isn’t hurting him, is it?” Molly worried.

“Nor,” Toby informed.

“I studied his muscle and skeletal structure first,” Sherlock replied, “I’m studying humans as well, and proportioning it down to make sure I account for John’s shorter stature.”

“Wouldn’t want to pull a muscle,” She smirked.

“No, definitely not,” Sherlock agreed in all seriousness.

XXX

Go time. John had begun the packing up process and was planning on renting a van in three weeks time. He was stubborn about leaving despite Sherlock consciously showing him more affection. He’d been flattered and had smiled sadly, and he _had_ eventually given in and started sleeping curled up in Sherlock’s arms again, but he was still determined to move out. The reason Sherlock knew he was serious about it was because he’d stopped apologizing and just started telling Sherlock to brace himself.

So when John pulled a double at the clinic one night, leaving Mrs. Hudson to pick up Katherine from the centre and Sherlock to put her to bed, he spent the time after she retired putting together the perfect romantic evening. John walked in to find a recording of Sherlock playing the violin on the stereo, his favourite take-away on the table, a Bond movie set to play on the telly, Sherlock in his comfiest robe, and his flatmate holding out a robe for him.

“Out of those clothes and into this.”

“Pajama party?” John chuckled.

“I should have lit candles,” Sherlock sighed.

“Cliché, but it would have made your attempt at wooing me more obvious,” John chuckled, “I’m sorry you went to this trouble, but I think it’s best if I just turn in.”

“No,” Sherlock cut him off from his retreat, “I went to a _lot_ of trouble.”

“Yeah, calling out for food and hitting play on two devices was the most effort you’ve made for our relationship in over a year,” John sighed, “Except this isn’t happening, Sherlock. I’m leaving. That’s it. The sooner you accept that the better.”

“You’ve _no idea_ what I’ve done for our relationship, John,” Sherlock snapped, “Both recently and before your unpleasant announcement. I’m going to convince you to stay tonight if it’s the last thing I do!”

“Then I hope you’re not going to get bored when I leave in three weeks and you’re left doing _nothing_ for the rest of your life,” John replied, “Because I’m going. This isn’t going to work. My needs aren’t being met and I’m _lonely_.”

“You aren’t lonely, you’re needy,” Sherlock reminded, “I’m excellent company most of the time.”

“And terrible company the rest,” John pointed out, “But that’s not the kind of lonely I meant. I meant I’m physically lonely.”

“I cuddle with you. I’m _very_ cuddly! I have a fluffy housecoat I bought just for you!”

“Yeah,” John smiled at it, “I remember. It was your birthday present to me. Look, as sweet as that all is…”

John froze and his eyes went wide. That was due to Sherlock’s intervention. He’d reached out and caressed his mental hand across John’s cock. He couldn’t actually _feel_ it, which made it bearable, but he knew it was working because John gasped and stared down at his crotch in shock.

“Is… is there someone in here?” John asked, his eyes wide with terror.

“Just us,” Sherlock smirked.

“Sherlock, I swear something just touched me,” John stated, his tone more than a bit frightened, “It felt like a snake or something.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Now who’s being cliché.”

“I’m not making jokes!” John squeaked, his voice panicked as Sherlock stroked up along the inside of one thigh, “I think there’s a snake in my trousers!”

“There is no such thing,” Sherlock stated in annoyance, “Now sit back and enjoy the ride, and once I’m through you may wash up and we’ll have a cuddle, meal, and movie.”

Sherlock shifted John, his mind dragging him across the floor and tossing him onto the couch.

“The fuck?!” John shouted in alarm.

“Hush,” Sherlock chided, “You’ll wake Katherine.”

“H-how are you doing this?!” John asked, his eyes still wide with fear as Sherlock stripped his clothes off. It was rather amusing to watch the buttons come undone on their own, but John seemed more alarmed than ever, “What the fuck is going on?!”

“Shhh,” Sherlock soothed, “You know I can’t abide the touch of sweat and saliva, let alone semen. This is a solution. I can provide for all your needs now. Also, we are now in possession of a talking dog, but I’ll introduce you later. I felt his presence would be a deterrent to your sexual satisfaction as he tends to stare quite a bit.”

John was writhing beneath his mental touch as Sherlock physically turned his chair to face his flatmate and sat down in it. John wasn’t positioned the way he wanted- this was easier if he faced him head on- so he shifted him so that he was kneeling on the couch facing the room.

“Sh-Sherlock,” John stammered, eyes wide with fear even as his cock twitched.

“I’m trying to ascertain your level of consent,” Sherlock frowned, “Is this okay?”

He mentally stroked along John’s half-hard cock and watched it firm up admirably. John moaned and threw his head back, panting in obvious longing.

“Sherlock,” He moaned softly, “How are you doing this?”

“With my mind,” Sherlock smirked, “I developed a serum that opens up the unused portions of my brain. I hoped it would allow me to access psychic abilities that have been hitherto inactive. It might have also caused insanity, but my cursory tests ruled that out in 98% of subjects.”

“Oh fuck, I love it when you brag,” John panted, reaching up to tweak his own nipples.

“Here now,” Sherlock frowned, “I’m doing that.”

John’s hands were instantly pinned to the back of the couch on either side of him and Sherlock extended more of his thoughts to toying with John’s nipples. His mouth fell open.

“What does it feel like?” Sherlock asked.

“Like firm feathers,” John panted, “Or soft fingers. Or tentacles. Dozens of them. They prod and stroke and _oh fuck_!”

“Would you like to be penetrated or experience a sense of penetrating another?” Sherlock asked.

“I… I… I…” John stammered. He was flushed and dripping sweat already, his cock dark and straining, the head fully unsheathed from his foreskin. His eyes couldn’t decide if they wanted to be open or not and he was gently fighting against where he was pinned.

“I ask that,” Sherlock continued, “But I imagine if I _really_ put my mind to it I could simulate both at once.”

“Oh gods yes!” John gasped.

Sherlock smirked and tried what he had only practiced so far on kitchen utensils. He pictured a sheet of fabric wrapped around John’s cock and slowly moving across his straining flesh. John cried out in bliss and began jerking his hips forward in obvious longing. The next bit was trickier. He couldn’t actually _penetrate_ him with his mind as lubricant would have to be involved, and the very idea of all that squelching made Sherlock queasy, but he could guide his muscles to contract and stimulate his prostate. Hopefully it would imitate the feeling of penetration. He started small, triggering the muscles a bit as he slowly moved from anus towards his prostate.

Sherlock’s eyes widened, as the response in John was almost violent. He gasped and stilled, eyes wide and breath stuttering. He looked both afraid and aroused and his cock was leaking precome constantly. He stilled as Sherlock moved deeper inside of his body, picturing each of the muscle groups concerned and carefully stimulating the nerves along his epidermis.

“Oh gods,” John whispered, his voice trembling, “Oh fuck, it doesn’t even burn.”

“Is that good?” Sherlock frowned, “I can increase the friction coefficient if you’d like a bit of burn.”

“I… I… I…” John gasped, “I don’t know. Do I?”

“Let’s try it next time,” Sherlock replied, “I’d hate to burst any blood vessels.”

“N-next… Sherlock…” John gasped, “I’m m-moving and…”

“Breaking all contact with me,” Sherlock nodded, “Unless I can meet _all_ of your needs, including your sexual ones. Now, perhaps this will help?”

Sherlock slipped out of his comfy robe to reveal that he wore only a pair of black pants beneath. John moaned throatily and Sherlock smirked. He had to focus a great deal to multitask in this way so he dropped the conversation and started stimulating John from all ends. He teased his nipples, stroked his cock, and finally prodded his prostate. John’s mouth fell open and his eyes rolled back as he gasped and jerked his hips wantonly. He was still pinned, but he was still attempting to thrust, but now he wasn’t sure if he should push forward or back. Sherlock wondered if John would like something in his mouth, but he was too focused to ask him. To make it seem shaped like John’s erect penis- the only one he really had seen enough of to picture- he had to focus on creating a concave pressure sensation on various portions of his mouth and throat. They had to be perfectly aligned to create the illusion of a phallus entering his mouth. The first thrust was tentative, and John moved his mouth to suck on it instantly. Sherlock lost the shape but refocused and was soon taking John from all angles. He whimpered eagerly and made grasping motions with his hand as he swallowed around the imagined intrusion. Sherlock took the hint and added similar forms to his hands. John moaned eagerly and gagged a bit, but seemed to rather like that. Sherlock let it happen occasionally while John eagerly moved his wrists head, and hips to pleasure his imaginary partners.

“You look completely debauched like this, John. Imagine it. I can have you from every angle and not let _anyone_ touch you at the same time. I’m fucking you and taking you in all at once. I’m having you in every way using my brilliant mind. Isn’t it perfect?”

John’s response was to let out a growl that was completely unimpeded by the imagined phallus and climax violently. He convulsed in the detective’s grip but his orgasm surprised Sherlock so much that he released him completely, only instinctively holding up some of his power to stop the splatter. John lay gasping on the couch, toppling to one side as his body went lax; only his glutes convulsed, trying to clench around something that was never there.

Meanwhile, Sherlock was mesmirized by what he’d accidentally done when trying to stop John’s semen from impossibly crossing the distance to touch him. He’d managed to collect the spray and it was now floating in the air in globules in the ‘sheet’ that he’d been using to pleasure John’s cock. Not a drop had spilled. Sherlock floated it over to the bin and dropped it in then reached out to John again.

“I bet I could clean you this way,” Sherlock mused, and stroked along John’s trembling body with his powerful mind.

John moaned softly, stretching on the couch like a cat. Sherlock smoothed his ability along John’s skin, scooping up sweat and stray epithelial. This he guided to the bin before levitating John in the air and repeating this with his back. He laid John down on his back on the couch, clean and sated. Sherlock stood now and walked towards him with a proud swing in his hips. He straddled John’s hips and smiled down at his dopey grin, leaning forward to catch his lips in a heated kiss. John moaned softly, but Sherlock pulled away before his tongue could explore the younger man’s mouth.

“Still not on?” John smiled lazily.

“The sex was enough, wasn’t it?” Sherlock frowned, “I gave you what you wanted. You’ll stay now.”

Sherlock said it more as a statement than a question and John frowned a bit, “Stay?”

“Yes,” Sherlock replied with a firm nod, “I’ve given you the satisfaction you wanted. Our relationship is now consummated. You have no reason to complain anymore. Come to bed and in the morning you can unpack and call the lady in Sussex to cancel your rental.”

“I…” John looked uncertain.

“I can do this whenever you want,” Sherlock insisted, panic rising, “I’ll improve eventually. I’ve changed _my mind_ just to please you!”

“I don’t understand,” John shook his head, “Is this even real?”

“Of course it is! I developed a serum that opens up the unused portions of my brain so I can have sex with you without touching you! It’s perfect!”

“Gods, it _was_ perfect,” John sighed, “You’re sure this isn’t a dream?”

Sherlock pinched him and John yelped, “Convinced?”

“Yeah. Well… wow. Just… tentacle sex or… something?”

“If you like,” Sherlock shrugged, “You _will_ stay?”

“Yeah,” John smiled softly, “Yeah, I’ll stay. This can be enough. It’ll work. Er… by the way, did you mention a talking dog?”

“Ah yes! Toby! You can come in now!”

Toby used the grips Sherlock had made for him to turn the knob on Mrs. Hudson’s door and bound up the steps. He flung open their door, dropped his grips, and bolted for John to slobber all over him- much to Sherlock’s disgust.

“Toby!” Sherlock snapped, “That’s _not_ what we discussed!”

Toby pulled himself away from John, straightened his spine, sat firmly down on the ground, opened his mouth and declared: “I rove rou!”


End file.
